


i had a match (but she had a lighter)

by oryx



Category: Kamen Rider Ryuki, Kamen Rider Wizard
Genre: Crossover, F/F, Fluff and Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-25
Updated: 2017-04-25
Packaged: 2018-10-23 22:20:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10728423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oryx/pseuds/oryx
Summary: Wherein Mayu becomes an accomplice to a jailbreak.





	i had a match (but she had a lighter)

**Author's Note:**

> my fave nonsensical crossover ship, intended to be for toku ladies week, but obviously that didn't happen  
> "how does any of this work w ryuki canon" you ask. i press a finger to your lips and whisper "shh"

“Sorry,” says the beautiful woman in the white jacket, giving her a plaintive look, a single feather-shaped earring glinting when she tilts her head just so. “But can you pretend you know me real quick?”  
   
Mayu blinks up at her.  
   
“It’s just,” and here the woman takes the seat next to her on the bench, sitting far closer than Mayu is used to from strangers, her long hair brushing soft against her arm, “there’s this guy who I think might be following me.”  
   
In a split second Mayu’s surprise is replaced by a kind of grim understanding, and she can feel her lips pressing together in a thin line as she sets her book down. “What does he look like?” she asks. “Can you describe him?”  
   
“Um. I know he had on jeans and a blue button-down, and a grey hat that kind of hid his face?”  
   
Mayu scans the plaza through narrowed eyes. It’s thankfully fairly quiet today – in a crowd it would be much more difficult to spot someone with such a mundane description.  
   
“Do you think it might be someone you know?” she asks. “Or just someone who started following you randomly? Because I…” She trails off, words fading into nothing, having caught sight not of the man in question but of a familiar figure in a sleek black suit, several uniformed police officers on her heels. They look harried as they jog into the plaza, one of the officers stopping dead in their tracks and staring in Mayu’s direction before shouting for their companions.  
   
Mayu whips her head around to find her new acquaintance frozen in place, Mayu’s wallet halfway into her jacket pocket.  
   
“Fuck,” she sighs. “So close, too.”  
   
  
   
  
   
Kirishima Miho, alias Nakamura Honoka, is wanted by local authorities on three charges of grand larceny, one of identity theft, and two of extortion. This is what Rinko-san divulges to Mayu, after the initial surprise of meeting her here in the first place has worn off. “A lifelong con artist,” is Rinko’s understanding of things. She has outstanding arrest warrants in two other prefectures on top of this one.  
   
“So don’t feel bad about falling for it,” Rinko says, patting Mayu on the shoulder, as if she can plainly read the thoughts written across her face. “She’s gotten a lot of people with that same routine, I’m sure.”  
   
All-too-conscious of the absence when Rinko lets her hand fall away, Mayu swallows hard and glances over at the culprit instead. Even guarded by two of the force’s most imposing officers, Kirishima doesn’t seem particularly put-off. (A familiar scenario, maybe.) She’s clearly attempting to cajole one of the two into loosening her handcuffs, pouting at both of them in turn.  
   
“You wouldn’t mind coming back to the station, right?” Rinko is asking. “Just to give a witness report on an official basis and all that. It won’t take more than a few minutes, I swear.”  
   
Mayu turns back to her with a faint smile. “No,” she says quickly. “No, I don’t mind at all.”  
   
  
   
  
   
The police station is at once hectic and strangely empty, the few people there all answering phones with haggard expressions or running back and forth from desk to desk.  
   
“Things’ve been pretty tight since that Ungrer Empire showed up,” Rinko explains. When Mayu looks closer, she can in fact see rather prominent dark circles of tiredness beneath her eyes. “Not that we can do much against _them_ , but. People get a little stir crazy in a crisis, you know how it goes.”  
   
“Daimon,” shouts someone from across the room. “We have a report of a hostage situation at a convenience store in Shinagawa.”  
   
Rinko groans.  
   
“No one’s in immediate danger,” the man continues, hurrying over to hand her a hastily-scribbled note with the details. “Since the suspect is apparently using a, uh. Costume prop knife instead of an actual one.” He takes a moment to shake his head perplexedly. “But we still need someone to diffuse things and bring them in.”  
   
Rinko drags a hand down her face. “…Alright, yeah,” she sighs. “I’ll get on that.” She looks back at Mayu with a contrite expression, clapping her hands together and lowering her head. “I’m sorry, Mayu-chan. This… might take a little while. You can just head home if you like – I’ll call you tomorrow, I guess? So we can find a better time for you to give your testimony.”  
   
 _Mayu-chan._ No one else addresses her so casually these days. To her peers in her university classes, many of whom seem somewhat intimidated by her, she is always simply “Inamori.” The echo of Rinko’s voice saying her name settles warm and comforting in the hollow of her chest.  
   
“I don’t mind waiting here for you,” she says. “I don’t have to be anywhere until four thirty, anyhow.”  
   
“Really?” Rinko’s answering grin is bright and tinged with relief. “You’re a blessing, Mayu-chan. Has anyone ever told you that? I’ll try and make this quick.”  
   
She sets about straightening the lapels of her jacket, waving over her shoulder as she heads for the entrance, and Mayu watches her until she’s out of sight, the words “you’re a blessing” playing over and over in her mind. She turns back to the nearly-empty station and takes a seat in the waiting area with a pleased smile curving her mouth.  
   
Across the room, Kirishima Miho’s identification and fingerprinting seems to be finishing up in a hurry, the two officers clearly in a rush to get back out and answer another call. They march her past Mayu’s seat on their way the temporary holding cell, and Kirishima glances over at her, winking just before she’s shoved through the door.  
   
Mayu frowns, and snatches a three month-old magazine from the table, and resolves to pay Kirishima Miho no more mind until the moment Rinko returns.  
   
This proves to be difficult when, five minutes later, Kirishima’s voice says:  
   
“You’ve got a thing for that lady cop, don’t you?”  
   
Mayu comes dangerously close to accidentally ripping a page out of the magazine. She snaps her head up to stare at the woman in the holding cell, who is leaning against the bars and watching her through them with keen interest.  
   
“No judgment or anything,” she continues. “You’ve got good taste. Why not just confess, though? There’s no way she’s not into ladies too. I’ve got a sixth sense for these things.”  
   
The back of Mayu’s neck feels like it’s burning. “That’s – that’s none of your business,” she hisses, trying to keep her voice low. “And please stop talking to me. You’ve already caused me enough trouble today.”  
   
Infuriatingly, Kirishima laughs. “What, you’re really mad about that? I didn’t even manage to steal anything from you.”  
   
Despite her better sensibilities, Mayu finds herself leaping to her feet and stalking over to the cell to point an angry finger at Kirishima’s face. “You took advantage of the unspoken bond between women,” she says hotly. “That’s worse than just trying to rob me.”  
   
Kirishima blinks. When she laughs again it’s a genuine, taken aback sort of sound, her eyes gone a bit soft around the edges. “That’s the cutest thing anyone’s ever said to me,” she says. “You’re really – ”  
   
But Mayu never gets to find out what she is. A thunderous noise drowns out the rest of Kirishima’s words: a distant, booming explosion that reverberates through the floor and rattles the foundation of the building around them. For a moment after it fades, everyone in the place is as still and quiet as a statue, staring up at the ceiling like they expect it to fall on their heads, until one of the phones rings, shattering the silence, and the officers all start talking over each other, the hectic pace of before returning twofold.  
   
Mayu’s eyes are wide as she looks back at Kirishima, whose humor has all but vanished.  
   
“You think it’s them again?” she says. “That ‘Empire’ or whatever it is they’re calling themselves?”  
   
“…Probably,” Mayu says. She can feel her mouth twist into a scowl, and reaches down unconsciously to touch her Mage Ring. “They’ve been attacking more and more often lately.”  
   
She needs to get out there, is her immediate thought. As if on cue, the jarring sound of another explosion shakes through the police station, through the soles of her shoes and all the way up her spine. The idea of breaking her promise to wait for Rinko hurts a bit, but it’s not like she can just sit here while the city is in danger.  
   
“You think you could steal me some of my stuff back?” Kirishima says, startling her from her thoughts.  
   
Mayu stares at her blankly.  
   
“I’m not asking you to slip me a lockpick or anything,” Kirishima continues. “I just want to have a few of my things, y’know? For sentimental value and all that. In case…” Here she trails off, biting her lip and lifting her eyes to the ceiling once more.  
   
A pang jolts through Mayu’s chest. She’d like to be able to say _you’ll be safe here, don’t worry_ , but it’s not as if that’s a promise she can reasonably make. “What do you need?” she asks.  
   
“My compact. And there should be this other thing, too – a deck of cards. It’s white, with a gold design on the front.”  
   
A minute later, Mayu finds herself inching nearer to the desk where Kirishima’s belongings are heaped in a plastic bin. The officer standing next to it, phone pressed against his ear and audibly trying to console whatever hysterical civilian is on the line, does not seem like he’ll be moving any time soon. She promised herself she wouldn’t use magic for everyday affairs, but this isn’t everyday, is it? This is helping a scared person in the face of a crisis.  
   
She materializes the belt around her waist and presses her palm against the handprint.  
   
“ _Retrieve_ , now,” she whispers.  
   
Kirishima’s expression brightens as Mayu slips her the compact and the strange deck of cards through the bars.  
   
“You’re a life saver,” she says with a grin, and Mayu watches, curious, as she sets about opening the compact and positioning it on top of the cot on the far side of the cell, the in-set mirror glinting in the light as she does so.  
   
“What are you – ” Mayu starts to say, but the words get caught in her throat as Kirishima turns her back to Mayu, holding the deck of cards out in front of her as she says, unmistakably:  
   
“ _Henshin_.”  
   
  
   
  
   
Despite it all, Mayu’s first thought is that there’s something very beautiful about the white armor. Regal and elegant in a way that reminds her of the first time she saw Haruto become Wizard. Kirishima turns to look at her (at least she must be, behind the intricately slatted mask) and Mayu feels caught, trapped there in the moment, her eyes unwittingly tracing the gold accent on the helmet, the razor-sharp blade of the rapier hanging at her side.  
   
“Thanks for the help,” says Kirishima’s voice, an amused smile audible in her words. “See ya around.”  
   
And at that she promptly vanishes into thin air.  
   
Mayu makes a startled noise, surging forward to grab the bars of the cell and staring open-mouthed at the empty space. A magic user that can teleport without a spoken spell? She supposes it’s possible. Except…  
   
She could’ve sworn she’d seen a tiny image of Kirishima wave to her from within the compact mirror before stepping neatly out of the frame.  
   
  
   
  
   
By the time she arrives on the scene, the damage is already mounting. Where there used to be a corner café there is now only a pile of smoldering rubble, and the building next to it has been nearly torn in two. A blazing fire is reaching out of the shattered windows of a boutique across the street. People are running, panicked, their shoulders knocking against hers as they force their way past, and she can hear the sound of overlapping sirens in the distance. The Ungrer Empire footsoldiers are clustered a little ways down the street, seemingly engaged in combat with someone, and Mayu is edging closer when that someone gets thrown back by a strong blow, landing lightly on their feet in front of her, their long cape fluttering down like wings around them.  
   
For a split second they both stop and stare at each other.  
   
“Seriously? You again?” Kirishima says. She twists around to block the surprise attack of a footsoldier and continues, gritting out the words with some effort: “If you don’t get out of here you’re gonna get hurt.”  
   
Mayu blinks. She’d thought Kirishima had simply meant to escape (and had made Mayu complicit in it, nonetheless). To find her here, fighting to protect the city… She hastily shakes her head as if to clear those thoughts away. Now’s not the time to contemplate.  
   
“I can’t leave,” she says, materializing the belt around her waist once again. “Not if someone’s in danger.” She can feel power humming through the ring, through the tips of her fingers and all the way to her heart.  
   
“I’m a Mage, after all.”  
   
  
   
  
   
Her claws rake through the last of the Ungrer footsoldiers – its flesh insubstantial, made of shadows and magic and bits of dark earth that crumble harmlessly to the pavement. In the near silence that remains, she stands there with her adrenaline fading and can feel Kirishima’s gaze trained on her even through the mask.  
   
“So you’re a Rider too, huh? Never would’ve guessed.”  
   
“Why’s that?” Mayu asks curtly, allowing her transformation to fade away. Kirishima does the same by sliding the card deck from her belt, so that Mayu can see the expression on her face: one of subtle, genuine interest, a keen look in her eye.  
   
“I’m not trying to insult you or anything,” she says. “Haven’t come across many other women, is all. And you’re young on top of that.”  
   
“I’m nineteen,” Mayu says with a scowl.  
   
Kirishima bares her teeth as she laughs. “Yeah, like I said.”  
   
Mayu can feel annoyance prickling at the back of her neck, and she opens her mouth to voice some heated retort, forgetting what she meant to say just as quick when she notices blood dripping steadily from the tips of Kirishima’s fingers, a gash (undoubtedly from one of the Ungrer soldier’s jagged blades) torn into her upper arm.  
   
“You’re hurt.”  
   
Kirishima glances down and flexes her hand as if to show that it’s still in working order. “It’s nothing much,” she says with a shrug.  
   
“Even the smallest injury can turn into a problem if you leave it untreated,” Mayu recites. Her father used to say that, when she and Misa were little and they would come home with scrapes on their knees. “Come with me. I have a first aid kit in my apartment.”  
   
She turns on her heel, making as if to leave, and feels oddly pleased when, a few beats later, she can hear Kirishima huff out an exasperated sigh and begin to follow after.  
   
  
   
  
   
“Is it really alright to be bringing a wanted criminal home?” Kirishima says, waggling her eyebrows as Mayu digs her keys out of her bag. “I mean, talk about scandalous. What if your family starts asking questions?”  
   
Her grip suddenly white-knuckled around the handle, Mayu yanks the door open with a bit too much force, narrowly avoiding whacking Kirishima in the face with it.  
   
“Well, good thing I live alone, then,” she says.  
   
“Really? Not even a roommate?” Kirishima hums, thoughtful. “That’s pretty rare.”  
   
She peers around as Mayu leads her inside, observing the sparse furniture and decorations in a way that looks suspiciously like “casing the joint.”  
   
“Sit,” Mayu orders, gesturing towards the sofa. “And don’t even think about trying to pocket anything while I’m out of the room.”  
   
Kirishima salutes with her non-injured hand. “Wouldn’t dream of it, ma’am,” she says with mock-seriousness, a glint of amusement in her eyes.  
   
Shockingly, when Mayu returns with the first aid kit in hand Kirishima is still right where she left her. So she _can_ listen to instructions, Mayu thinks.  
   
“Hold out your arm,” she says, lowering herself down on to the sofa next to her, and Kirishima once again obeys. The cut is perhaps less deep than it seemed upon first glance, but still not something that can be ignored, the edges of the wound already looking a bit red and inflamed. Mayu sets about wiping the excess blood away and dabbing at the cut with disinfectant, and for a minute the only sound is Kirishima’s occasionally hiss of breath at the sting of it, until:  
   
“You know you don’t have to do this for me, right?” she says. For the first time she seems a bit put-off and out of her depth, confused by the genuine intent Mayu is displaying. “I mean, we might as well be strangers, you and me. ‘Rider solidarity’ isn’t exactly a thing where I come from.”  
   
“Well, it is around here,” Mayu says simply. She procures some gauze and medical tape from the kit and begins to bandage the cleaned injury. “Anyway. This is just temporary, alright? You should really see a doctor at some point, just to be careful.”  
   
Kirishima makes a quiet noise of amusement. “Yeah, sure. I’ll move my next appointment up a few weeks.”  
   
Mayu purses her lips, disapproving, but resolves to say nothing else on the matter. “You’re welcome to stay the night as well, if you want. Just help me with dinner in exchange. Since you’re hurt I’ll give you the easy chores.”  
   
Kirishima blinks at her. “You’re a strange one, you know that?” She gets to her feet with a shake of her head, stretching out the tension in her shoulders carefully so as to avoid aggravating her injury. “You’d better not be a shitty cook.”  
   
  
   
  
   
Over the next hour, Mayu learns that Kirishima – Kamen Rider Femme, as she calls herself – is in fact not a magic-user. That the power to enter the world of mirrors is an ability shared by every Rider with a card deck similar to hers.  
   
(“What’s it like?” she asks. “Inside the mirror, I mean?”  
   
“Backwards,” Kirishima says with a grin.)  
   
She learns that Kirishima usually targets a certain type of well-off men for her con jobs. “Rich douchebags” is her exact phrasing.  
   
“Sorry,” she says haltingly, as she makes painstaking attempts at peeling a carrot. “About that whole thing earlier. I don’t like to go after women, much less nice girls like you, but. Things’ve been a little tight these past few months, you know?”  
   
Mayu doesn’t know. She can’t even begin to imagine why this person chooses to make her living in such a way, but the real, honest contrition written across Kirishima’s face is enough to get a nod out of her all the same.  
   
“Anyway, enough about me,” Kirishima says, a bit overloud. “ _You_ never gave me a straight answer before, about that lady cop you’re pining over.”  
   
Mayu freezes, a tight feeling in her throat, knife hovering above the pepper she was about to start chopping. “…It’s not like it’s complicated or anything. She just has a girlfriend already, is all.” Here she takes the knife and levels it threateningly in Kirishima’s direction. “And don’t even think about giving me some awful advice about waiting for them to break up. They’ve been together a while and they’re very happy, from what I can tell. I even met her once.” A weighted pause. “She was nice.”  
   
She can feel Kirishima’s eyes lingering on her for a moment before she sighs dramatically and goes back to her carrot peeling. “Love, right? It’s rough when you’re young.”  
   
“Again with that? How much older than me can you possibly be?” Mayu asks with a frown, the uncomfortable mood of before dissipated as quick as it came, and at that Kirishima simply laughs.  
   
  
   
  
   
It’s been a long time since she last ate dinner with another person. It hits her as she sits there across from Kirishima, who is in the middle of telling an animated story about one of her few Rider friends (something about an incident at an okonomiyaki restaurant).  
   
Mayu wracks her mind, and supposes that the last time must have been five months ago, when Haruto was back in town for a quick visit and Shunpei had invited her out with them. And it had been just as jarring then as it is now: the feeling of actual companionship and warmth instead of the cold silence she’s grown accustomed to.  
   
“You alright?” Kirishima asks, and Mayu comes back to herself with a start, finding Kirishima staring at her curiously over the rim of her water glass.  
   
“Yeah,” Mayu says quickly. “Just. Thinking.”  
   
“I can leave, if you’re starting to regret this whole invitation. No hard feelings.”  
   
“No!” The vehemence in her voice surprises even herself, and they sit there blinking at each other in silence for a moment. “That’s – it’s fine. It’s not you, it’s…”  
   
“‘It’s not you, it’s me’?” Kirishima echoes, her smile bemused. “Only the first date and you’re already giving me that line? Might be a new record.”  
   
She gets up from the table to take her plate to the sink and leaves Mayu sitting there in stunned confusion, heat creeping slowly into her cheeks. This is definitely not a first date, she thinks. Is it?  
   
She’s so caught up in her own thoughts that it takes her a moment to realize how still Kirishima has gone, frozen in place with her plate still in hand, staring at the photograph pinned to Mayu’s fridge with a magnet. A picture of herself and her parents and Misa, all four of them beaming brightly, taken just a few days before she left for school.  
   
Kirishima clears her throat. “Nice family,” she says, an odd, forced-sounding note to her voice. “A twin sister… Kind of wild, knowing there’s another person out there with a face like yours.”  
   
Mayu gazes at the photo. She looks at it every day, of course, and yet rarely allows herself to think about it much: how the sheer idyllic happiness, the _complacency_ of the scene makes her own face (and Misa’s too, she supposes) look like a stranger’s. How it was only taken two and a half years ago, and yet it feels like it’s been five lifetimes since.  
   
“They’re dead,” she says.  
   
Kirishima turns back to look at her, eyes wide and startled, before glancing once again at the photo. “…Even her?” she asks quietly, and Mayu follows her line of sight to Misa’s smiling face. (Despite it all, she can’t help but be impressed. Not many people can tell the two of them apart so easily.)  
   
“Yeah. Her, too,” Mayu says, and wonders at the steadiness of her own voice. “She was killed by a monster.”  
   
A shadow passes across Kirishima’s face. At her side, her hand is clenched into a tight fist, tension evident in the set of her shoulders and the line of her jaw. It’s a look Mayu never expected to see on this person: pure rage, simmering beneath the surface and threatening to boil over.  
   
“So that’s how it is, huh,” she says finally, turning her attention back to the dishes, and though she’s plainly trying to return to her previous demeanor there is still a subtle, stilted anger to her words. “I’m sorry for your loss.”  
   
It’s a sentiment she heard countless times, back then, and yet it feels different, somehow, coming from Kirishima. More genuine.  
   
“It’s fine,” she says.  
   
“No,” Kirishima replies, “it’s not.”  
   
Mayu can feel something inside her twist painfully, then. She stares down at her hands folded on the tabletop, at the Mage Ring on her finger, its surface pulsing with a gentle magical light. A hollow ache is forming in her chest.  
   
“No,” she agrees. “It’s not.”  
   
  
   
  
   
  
   
For as long as she can remember she’s been a light sleeper. Even moreso now that there’s magic woven into her skin, heightening her senses – senses that seem to think every sudden rainstorm or dog barking in the night is a potential threat to her life. This, though, might be the new height of absurdity, as she jolts into wakefulness over a slight creak in the floor from outside her room. The neon red numbers of the alarm clock read 3:57, and Mayu groans into her pillow. Most likely it was nothing more than the building settling.  
   
Still. Maybe there’s a reason for being woken up like this.  
   
She drags herself out of her warm blankets and slides open her bedroom door. It’s not so dark that she can’t clearly make out Kirishima’s form as she gathers together her few belongings and folds up the makeshift bed Mayu had made for her on the couch.  
   
“Are you leaving?” Mayu asks, with a strange kind of nervousness coiled tight in her stomach.  
   
Kirishima makes a quiet noise of assent. “If I want to salvage some of my stuff from my apartment, now’s the time. I probably won’t be able to go back there again.” She taps a finger against her forearm thoughtfully. “What with everything else going on I don’t think staking out my place will be much of a priority for the cops, but. Still rather not risk it. I owe the landlady rent money, too – ”  
   
Mayu has crossed the room before she’s even aware of it, reaching out to catch the hem of Kirishima’s shirt between her fingers. “You’re… coming back though, aren’t you?”  
   
Kirishima turns to look at her with surprise evident in her expression, her mouth forming an “o” before gradually widening into a smile.  
   
“Do you want me to?” she asks, and Mayu hardly hesitates before answering:  
   
“Yes.”  
   
This truly seems to give Kirishima pause, as if the prospect of an affirmative response hadn’t even occurred to her. She swallows visibly, her hand drifting up, tentative, to brush against Mayu’s arm, and even in the half-light Mayu can see a kind of unguarded softness around her eyes.  
   
“…Then I will,” she murmurs. She leans in to press her lips against Mayu’s cheek, gentle and warm, lingering there for a long moment. “See you soon, magic girl.”  
   
For the first time in a long time, Mayu laughs.


End file.
